The Balamb Underground
by colobonema
Summary: Zell entrusts Selphie and Irvine with the task of investigating Ma Dincht's unexplained source of income. Postgame, one-shot.


Disclaimer: I make no claim whatsoever to the characters or world of Final Fantasy VIII, which is the property of Squaresoft/Square Enix.

* * *

**The Balamb Underground**

"Out with it, Zell."

"It's... Well, it's... ah, _man_." Zell fidgeted and bounced across the floor of Irvine's dorm room, while Irvine frowned at him in irritation.

Selphie reached out and patted Zell's bobbing shoulder from her seat on the bed. "Take your time, Zell," she said soothingly. "Don't mind Irvy. Whatever it is, we'll help you out."

Irvine's eyes met hers, a wicked gleam warming up the pale blue of his irises. "Girl trouble. It's gotta be."

Zell stopped moving and glared at him. "The hell it is. Anyway, if it was, I'd ask Selphie on her own. Not takin' your weird advice again."

Irvine smirked, and Selphie wondered what kind of sexist drivel he had offered Zell in the past. She decided her ears were too innocent to ask for details, and said, "Shall we kick him out, Zell?"

Irvine clicked his tongue at her. "Sefie, have you noticed this is _my room_?"

Zell shook his head. "Nah. This needs both of you." He screwed up his eyes. "All right. It's about my Ma."

"Is she okay?" Selphie asked with concern. She had a great deal of affection for Ma Dincht.

"Yeah. Probably. I dunno. Something's going on, and I don't know what." Zell sat heavily on the bed next to Selphie, and Selphie didn't miss the way Irvine's eyes flicked territorially to the close distance between them. _Take it easy, Kinneas, _she thought with amusement.

Zell looked at the ceiling, and took a breath. "Way back, when Pa's boat was found, we got a lump-sum payout from the Fishermen's Guild. They've got a fund for fishing widows, see. That's how she used to get by. By the time I was seventeen it was pretty much gone, so I always gave Ma half my SeeD salary. But for the last few months, she's been telling me she doesn't need it. And she's got some pricey new clothes, and she's been wearing jewelry I've never seen before." His face darkened. "And... well... I've been hearing talk in Balamb."

Irvine leaned against the desk, his arms folded. "What kind of talk?"

"My old boss at the garage... I heard his wife kicked him out for 'wastin' family money down in that Dincht woman's basement.' I gotta find out what's going on, but..." He pushed his palms into his forehead. "Urgh."

Selphie was puzzled. "Why don't you just ask her?"

"Can't." Zell chewed on a thumbnail. "In case it's something I really don't wanna hear."

Irvine adjusted his hat and said, "I think your Ma's a little too old to be turnin' tricks, Zell."

Zell sprung off the bed and grabbed the collar of Irvine's coat with both hands.

"You watch your goddamn mouth! Say anything like that about my Ma again, and I'll break your face."

"Hey, I thought that's what you were gettin' at, when you said-"

Zell released Irvine's coat with a shove, his disgust clear on his face. "Why the hell did your mind have to go _there? _Only a complete sicko would think that!"

"Anyone would've thought that's what you meant!" Irvine protested. "Right, Sefie?"

Selphie fiddled with a lock of her hair. "I didn't think that. She could be harvesting organs or something."

Irvine's smirk was obscene. "Never heard it called that before. Yeah, she could be 'harvesting' the same few organs, over and over-"

Zell cracked his knuckles. "Last warning, Kinneas."

Irvine held out both hands, offering Zell an apologetic grin. "Okay, okay. Leave it to us. We'll go into Balamb tonight and figure it out."

Zell looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Look, I don't want anyone else knowing about this. It's not SeeD business, so not a word to Squall. So don't go telling Rinoa, either. Or Quistis. She'd push me into going to the authorities if it's something illegal."

Selphie stood, and hugged him around the waist. "We won't let you down, Zell. Don't worry."

* * *

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the gray paving of Balamb's main residential street. Selphie hopped down the steps to the thick oak door, sunk down to a lower level than the street. Balamb townhouses were built to stay cool in the blazing summer heat that lasted almost half the year, a world away from the harsh cold of Selphie's own upbringing in Trabia. She loved both, in different ways.

Selphie knocked, and the door swung open to reveal Ma Dincht, all apron, wide hips and laughing brown eyes.

"Selphie, dear! My Zell not with you today?"

Irvine took off his hat and clutched it to his chest in an overstated show of manners. "Just us, I'm afraid, ma'am."

Ma Dincht, beaming from ear to ear, reached up and tapped Irvine on the cheek. "Now, now. You tall, handsome boy, you! I wish you could share some of your height with my lad. The poor boy stopped growing when he was thirteen, did you know that?" She turned around and disappeared back into the house.

"I think Zell'd be the first to complain if I tried to slip him a few of my inches," Irvine said, maintaining an expression of careful innocence.

Ma Dincht cast an indulgent smile over her shoulder as she headed towards the kitchen. While her back was turned once more, Selphie elbowed Irvine in the ribs.

"Irvy, cut it out," she hissed. "Any more wisecracks and I'll make sure Zell hears about it."

"Aw Sefie, you're drainin' the fun outta this."

Ma Dincht soon re-emerged, a bright orange popsicle in each hand. Selphie took one for herself and passed the other to Irvine.

"Awesome! Thank you!"

"You're welcome, sweetie. So, what can I do for you two?

Selphie took a lick of her popsicle and smiled brightly. "We'd like to go to the basement please, Mrs. Dincht."

Ma Dincht's eyebrows rose a fraction, but she replied pleasantly, "There ain't nothing down there, Selphie dear."

Irvine lounged against the doorframe, wielding his popsicle like a Trabian cigar. "Thing is, we heard there was. A social gathering of sorts, maybe." He held Ma Dincht's gaze intently, then unveiled one of his outlandishly charming smiles at exactly the right moment.

A lesser woman might have melted, even at Ma Dincht's age, but Zell's mother stood firm. She folded her arms and fixed both SeeDs with a long, level stare. "_Well_. If there was, it wouldn't be starting until nine. But it'd be at your own risk. You sure now?" She eyed Selphie curiously. "Both of you?"

Selphie nodded enthusiastically. "We'd love to, Mrs. Dincht."

"Not a word to my boy, now. He wouldn't approve."

"Of course, ma'am," Irvine said.

"You'd best go off and make yourselves busy until nightfall, then." She waved them off, and the heavy door swung shut.

* * *

Irvine leaned back in his seat at the Balamb Pizzeria, root beer in hand, and grinned at Selphie.

"This counts as a date, y'know."

"Pretty sure it doesn't."

"I'm treatin' it as one. So let me pay, okay?"

"Knock yourself out, Irvy." She picked up a slice of pizza and watched the thick layer of cheese lurch towards the edge as she tilted it downwards, the crust sagging under the weight. _Like snow piled on a Trabian rooftop, _she decided. _Just before it crushes an unsuspecting passer-by. _She swooped her head down to catch the cheese in one bite before it hit the plate.

Irvine observed her eating technique with semi-interest, then said seriously, "Listen, Sef. We need to start thinking how we're gonna break it to Zell that his Ma's running a sex dungeon."

Selphie almost choked on her pizza. "A _sex dungeon_?"

Irvine shook his head, his expression dark. "Don't let appearances fool you, just 'cos she's old. It's the menopausal ones who're the kinkiest. Their hormones go haywire. All kinds of crazy stuff goes on after fifty. Trust me."

She snorted. "Where'd you get that nonsense from? The Readers' Wives section of _Girl Next Door _magazine?"

"Hey. I keep tellin' you, I mainly buy it for the essays."

Selphie rolled her eyes. "Yeah yeah, 'high-quality editorial content', blah blah blah."

"It _does _have high-quality edito-"

"Well, it's not real life. Mrs. Dincht's a sweet little lady who always gives us popsicles, as if we're a couple of five-year-olds."

"When we're actually a pair of cold-blooded professional killers, you mean?"

Selphie tutted at him in response. It wasn't the done thing among SeeDs to remind each other of the nature of their job. Irvine, despite passing the SeeD exam at his own request several months before, had remained blissfully free of any sense of pride in the Garden organization, and flatly refused to observe the unwritten social rules that existed to keep SeeDs sane, or at least in a state of healthy denial. Selphie both admired and resented him for it in equal measure.

"She doesn't have an indecent bone in her body. I'm telling you, Irvy."

He glanced at the clock on the wall of the cafe. "Yeah, well, we'll find out who's right in about forty-five minutes."

* * *

The Balamb sky was dark by the time they returned to Zell's family home. Ma Dincht, now apron-less and businesslike, ushered Selphie and Irvine inside without a word, and unlatched a wooden baby-gate that cut off the stone steps down to the basement. Selphie and Irvine shared a look that was part excitement and part apprehension, and followed her down the steps.

The basement was dimly lit by a lone uncovered light bulb descending from the ceiling, and smelled faintly of dried fish, partly masked by the haze of tobacco that drifted out of a hand-rolled cigarette held between the fingers of one of its occupants. Three men, all around Ma Dincht's age if not older, were seated around a low table, with a pile of small, rounded wooden discs at the center. Selphie recognized the smoker as the owner of the garage where Zell had once had a part-time job. He narrowed his eyes as he took in the appearance of the two new additions to the room.

Ma Dincht walked over and took a seat at the head of the table. There was no trace of the smiling matriarch now. "Well gentlemen, and young lady, let's begin. I'll give a brief summary of the rules for our two new visitors. First things first, we don't use real names down here, even if you know 'em. I'm Dealer, and you're not to call me otherwise. This is Spanner." She gestured at the mechanic, who nodded in acknowledgement. "And this is Crates." The gray-bearded man on her left frowned, his eyes lingering on Irvine's hat. Selphie thought she had seen him down at the Balamb docks, unloading the fishing boats. "And Penpusher," Ma Dincht added, indicating a bespectacled middle-aged man who Selphie was quite sure worked at the Balamb Mayor's office. _Rotten to the core, _she smiled to herself. _This might give Ma some excellent leverage for blackmail later on, should she ever need to use it._

Ma Dincht looked Selphie and Irvine up and down thoughtfully. "You two can be-"

"Can't we choose our names, ma'am?" Irvine cut in.

Spanner stubbed out his cigarette on the ceramic ashtray in front of him. "Dealer's rules, young'in."

Ma Dincht ignored the interruption. "Hmm. Let's go with Cowboy and Sunbeam."

Irvine opened his mouth to speak again, so Selphie quickly said, "Sounds good, Dealer."

Ma Dincht reached under the table to get something, and Selphie whispered to Irvine, "What names did you want?"

"Bullseye and Hot Legs," he murmured, with an overt glance at Selphie's thighs. She retaliated by stamping on his foot.

The item Ma Dincht brought out was a small box made of a polished dark wood, with an intricate inlaid pattern. She set it on the table and opened the gold fastening, and when Selphie saw the contents, everything started to make sense.

Ma Dincht took the Triple Triad deck out carefully, and laid the cards down in the space front of her.

Selphie had always known that Zell's mother was a highly skilled Triple Triad player. She had even watched Squall lose cards to her, back in the days before he was made Commander. She had to admire the woman for her business sense: it took a coolly logical mind to turn one's daytime hobby into a source of profit by setting up an underground gambling den. Monetizing Triple Triad was illegal in every country in the world, although Selphie had heard that the law was openly flouted in the seedier parts of Deling City. She would never have expected to put Zell's house in the same category.

Ma Dincht reached under her chair and brought out a translucent green visor, which she placed on her head. "We don't allow any personal decks here. Everyone takes a random selection from the house deck. Myself included. We don't use the Open rule. We _do _use Same Wall, Combo, and Sudden Death. We play one-on-one, best of three, and the overall winner plays me. The stakes are a hundred gil per chip, with a minimum of twenty chips to start out. If you don't have two grand on you, better get out now and let the adults play." She straightened her visor and fixed Selphie and Irvine with a keen stare. "Well? Are you in or out?"

"Just one moment please, ma'am." Irvine took Selphie's arm at the elbow, and bent his head down to her ear. "We really doin' this?"

"Have you got the cash?"

"I've got nearly three thousand in my wallet. Damn, though. She's not kiddin' around."

"Let's go for it. Might be fun."

Irvine tilted his head at her, eyebrows drawn together, but soon gave in to her unwavering smile. He took the vacant chair at the table, reached into the pocket of his coat, and started counting out the gil notes in his wallet.

Ma Dincht began to shuffle the deck, and Selphie marveled at the way the cards flew from one hand to the other in the blink of an eye. She saw Irvine blanch slightly, but he handed over his cash and took his pile of chips without comment.

Play commenced, with Irvine pitched against Spanner, while Crates took on Penpusher. Ma Dincht watched dispassionately from the head of the table, occasionally taking sips from a silver hip-flask. Selphie, hovering behind Irvine's chair, occupied herself by watching each player carefully in an attempt to locate their "tells". Spanner was easy: his eyes were a dead giveaway whenever he received a new hand. She could quickly infer whether he had decent cards or not. Crates was harder, but Selphie noticed a leg jiggle that corresponded to the rounds where he would lay down high-scoring cards, sweeping the pile of chips towards himself with a satisfied smirk. Penpusher, with his singularly unexpressive face, was the most difficult to read, but she started to pick up on a self-conscious nose scratch that he only seemed to do when he was dealt a poor hand.

Irvine, however, was struggling. She'd always put him down as a reasonably adept Triple Triad player, but it was now painfully obvious he was reliant on his carefully assembled personal deck. With a random hand of Ma's cards, he was adrift, and more than that, he wasn't really watching his opponent's reactions. He lost two games and drew the other against Spanner, and went on to lose all three against Penpusher. By his first game against Crates, Irvine's dwindling pile of chips had reached zero.

He set his final, losing card down, a Red Bat. "All out. I can't pay you for that one."

Ma Dincht cleared her throat. "Well, you have a couple of other options, Mr. Cowboy."

"What would those be?"

"Your shirt, or your pants." She took a swig from her hip-flask and leaned back in the Dealer's chair. "Your choice, of course."

Selphie snickered quietly.

"Really, ma'am, is this necessary?" Irvine's tone was one of disapproval.

"Got any more cash on ya, boy?" snarled Crates.

"Nope."

"Then better get those buttons open."

Irvine cocked his head. "Is that what this place is? This what you fellas do every night?"

Crates growled in displeasure, while Spanner let out a guffaw. "We ain't never lost as much as you, lad."

"Sefie, help me out here." There was a note of pleading in his tone.

She shrugged. "Dealer's rules, Irvy."

Irvine made a frustrated noise in his throat, and started to unbutton his shirt. He glowered at the four Balamb townspeople. "The hat stays on. You ain't takin' that."

He folded the shirt neatly, and set it next to the pile of chips. As he played the next round shirtless, Selphie took the opportunity to study the neat, compact tattoo on his bicep, the insignia of Irvine's former Galbadian Army regiment. Irvine was touchy on the subject of his tattoo. Selphie remembered when she had first spotted it, half-visible under the hem of his t-shirt sleeve.

_Woo, is that a tattoo? It is! Zell, come and look! Irvine's got some ink." _

_Zell trotted over with interest, a newfound respect for Irvine in his eyes. "Let me see, man."_

"_Forget it." Irvine shrugged his jacket back on with an uncharacteristic scowl. _

"_Hey, come on, tats are cool."_

"_When they're your choice, maybe. Mine wasn't."_

Selphie wondered how Irvine felt now about being branded for life as an enforcer of the late Vinzer Deling's dictatorship. Perhaps she could help find a place that would remove it for him. Esthar had all kinds of advanced medical laser technology. Maybe-

"Goddamn it." Irvine threw down his last card, a Cockatrice, and glared up at the rest of the table.

"Pants it is then, young man," announced Ma Dincht, with just a hint of a smirk.

"You're all damn lucky I decided to wear underwear today," Irvine muttered as he stood up, and started to fumble with his zipper.

Selphie tactfully averted her eyes from Irvine's boxers, which were a surprisingly tasteful shade of burgundy, and raised an eyebrow at Ma Dincht, who smiled back serenely. The challenge was there in her eyes, and Selphie knew it was time to take it. She reached up and tapped Irvine on his bare shoulder.

"Okay, I'll take the next round. Thirty chips please, Dealer."

He twisted round to face her, his pants halfway down his thighs. "What? You said you didn't have any cash on you!"

"I was saving it. Thought I'd see how you got on first."

"Damn Sefie, that's cold."

She elbowed him out of the way and took a seat at the table, handing the contents of her wallet to Ma Dincht in return for a neat stack of chips. Ma Dincht shuffled the deck, and dealt five cards each to Selphie and Penpusher. Selphie made sure to frown noticeably at her own hand. It was decent, but not great. The Armadodo and the Cactuar might give her the edge. She kept her face down as her eyes darted up at Penpusher.

There it was. The nose scratch. She could take him.

Selphie pushed two of her stacks towards the pile. Penpusher blinked, but said nothing. She felt Irvine clutching the back of the chair tightly.

"Sef-" he hissed, behind her ear.

She put another couple of chips on the pile for good measure. _Just shut up and trust me, Kinneas. _

Her second card flipped the first two, and Irvine's audible exhalation of relief turned to a low whistle of admiration when her Armadodo card turned the whole board in a Combo.

Selphie gave an innocent smile, and claimed the pile of chips, as well as Irvine's shirt.

* * *

With her following games against Crates and Spanner, Selphie managed to win back the amount Irvine had lost, as well as nearly four thousand extra gil on top. Once each member was defeated, it was time for her to face the Dealer. Ma Dincht, blank and emotionless under her green eyeshade, was devoid of any telltale signs, and after one fraught draw Selphie knew she was pushing her luck to try any further. She gracefully announced her decision to fold.

"Wise decision, Sunbeam." Ma Dincht nodded approvingly as she raked the chips back towards herself.

The contest came to a close, and Ma Dincht removed her visor and poured a shot of whiskey for each of her older guests. Selphie and Irvine received homemade lemonade instead, much to Selphie's delight.

After they had finished their drinks, Ma Dincht accompanied them to the top of the steps and into the kitchen, leaving the men below to smoke their cigarettes and mutter to each other.

Selphie beamed and hugged her. "Thank you, Mrs. Dincht. We had such a great evening."

Ma Dincht was all Ma again, smiling and affectionate. She ruffled Selphie's hair. "You take care of my Zell, now. He's still a little boy at heart."

"Sure thing, Mrs. Dincht."

"And you can come back any time, Irvine." She winked at Irvine, who visibly reddened, then turned to Selphie and wagged a calloused finger. "Not you though, sweetie. My regulars'll start stayin' away. Can't have that, now."

"Understood." Selphie smiled sweetly. "I wouldn't want to get a taste for gambling, anyway."

* * *

"_Cards_? That's all it was?"

Zell sunk on the bed of Irvine's dorm room in relief, raking a hand across the stiff spikes of his hair.

Irvine flicked a piece of fluff off the quilt, his face sour. "Yep. Just your run-of-the-mill illegal, immoral den of gambling iniquity. Nothin' for you to worry your pretty head about."

Zell flashed a white-toothed smile. "Ah, it can't've been that bad."

"It was hell."

Selphie gave a happy sigh. "It was super fun, actually."

Irvine shook his head. "She's a Triple Triad demon. Your Ma'll be the ruin of half the population of Balamb before long."

After Zell left, Selphie took a seat next to Irvine on the bed.

"How come you didn't tell him about the shirt and pants?"

He shrugged. "Boy loves his ol' Ma. Can't have him thinkin' she's a perv."

She patted his knee. "That was sweet of you."

He met her eyes and grinned hopefully, and she smiled back.

"Just because she wanted to see you with your clothes off, it doesn't have to mean she's a pervert," Selphie continued. "She might just be a woman of good taste."

Irvine blinked as if he couldn't quite believe his ears, then broke into an appreciative chuckle.

"Smooth, Sef."

"I know."

The bed creaked as Irvine leaned towards her, his smile expectant.

"You might be about to get even more lucky tonight," he murmured, his lips an inch or so away from hers.

Selphie was tempted for a moment; she was used to Irvine's charms, but not entirely immune to them. However, there was a time and an occasion for this sort of thing, and she was reasonably sure that this wasn't it.

That didn't mean never. Just not... yet.

"I think I've had enough luck for today." She swerved his waiting lips and planted a light kiss on his cheek. "Night, 'Irvy."

He fell back on the bed with exaggerated dismay. "_Aw_, dammit Sefie! I mean, seriously?"

"Night," she repeated firmly, and took one last look at Irvine's puppy-dog eyes before skipping out of the door to his room.

She heard muffled curses behind her as she slid the door closed. The fat wad of cash she'd acquired in Ma Dincht's basement rustled in her pocket as she made her way towards her own room. Selphie grinned to herself, and started to plan how she would spend her ill-gotten gains.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading to the end of this very silly fic!

This story arose from a PM conversation with the lovely Dee Moyza. We were discussing the question of whether Pa Dincht is deceased in the game, or just out at sea for a _really _long time. That led to wondering where Ma would get her income from if Pa was dead, which (somehow) resulted in this unlikely scenario... Completely ridiculous (and the less said about Irvine's 'humor' the better) but I hope someone out there enjoyed it! - colobonema


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